


Another Day, Another Dawn

by sightandsound3733



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Homecoming, M/M, Reunions, indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 00:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6682507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightandsound3733/pseuds/sightandsound3733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mr. Hamilton?” Washington prompts, clearly repeating himself. “Are you and Mr. Burr ready to begin?” </p><p>Jefferson snickers, not even attempting to stifle the sound, already standing at his podium, with Madison as his partner quietly at his side. Double fuck. Alexander feels heat rush to his cheeks and he’s quick to spring to his feet. </p><p>“Yes sir. Of course.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day, Another Dawn

“Remember, this is just a set of practice rounds in order to better prepare ourselves for the Nationals next weekend,” Washington’s voice is stern, his eyes sharp as he hones in on Jefferson and Hamilton together. He looks a little ridiculous, his head making two very distinct turns across the length of the stage to cross the distance the two try to keep between them at all cost.

Alexander rolls his eyes, after dropping his gaze to the floor, absolutely seethes at the scoff he can hear burst forth from Jefferson’s lips. He purses his own to keep from speaking out of turn so early into the evening. The last thing he wanted was to upset Washington before the damn debate even got started.

Staying quiet was the right course of action, because a small quirk hit Washington’s lips, the barest echo of a smile.

“Alright then,” he says, moving to the podium to retrieve his microphone. A slight whine of feedback hisses over the sound system, no one seems to mind. Washington turns out to face the whole of the auditorium, moderately full with students, teachers, and all other attendees for the mock debate. “Welcome ladies and gentlemen-”

Washington greets the crowd, kind and charismatic and it’s clear why he’s held the presidential position for the debate club from undergrad up into his first year of grad school. First time it’s actually happened since Columbia’s debate club had been established, and everyone seemed more than happy with the development. He was well loved, well respected, and Alexander wondered idly if they could just keep Washington forever.

That was a train of thought for another time. He needed to focus.

Alex shifts in his chair, straightening up as he glances out into the crowd. Honestly he’s surprised by the turn out. It was just a mock debate run, nothing special. Sure it was their last public showing before they traveled down to the capitol for the national competition, and sure he took immense pride in his standing on the team, counted it as an incredible accomplishment, something to be proud of.. But it was debate. It wasn’t exactly like they typically brought crowds out in droves.

A polite smattering of applause brings him back and Alexander smiles, settling under the glare of the stage lights. Burr shifts beside him, uncomfortable with the attention. Alexander gives a gentle nudge to his sometimes-a-friend with his knee and gets a small, tight attempt at a smile in return. Okay so definitely a friend today.

Speaking of…

He risks a glance out into the audience, squints just a bit to see if he can make out the faces of his friends in the crowd. This may not be their favorite thing to sit through, but they’re always there, top row of the center of the auditorium. He grins when can make out Eliza, her bright smile a beacon, all honest goodnatured support. She’d have cookies ready for after, because she always did (snickerdoodles because she loved Alexander the best, clearly, and this was proof he was sure of it... though she has a batch of sugar cookies for Burr as well, cause she’s Eliza and she’s perfect). Angelica and Peggy flank her on either side, the former fiercely interested in the proceedings, the latter engaged only in her phone, would be until Alexander stood to talk (it filled him with pride that she only came to listen to him, Peggy was great, all hail Peggy) and she’d be the one to film the debate for later. Next to the youngest Schuyler was the hulking form of Hercules, proudly displaying his handcrafted “#Here4Ham” t-shirt (Oh that’s right. He had a hashtag, suck it Jefferson), and Lafayette-

Well Lafayette wasn’t there at all.

Alexander feels the crease form at his brow more than he actually recognizes any conscious decision to frown. Lafayette had said he was coming that morning when Alex had left them all at breakfast, he had fully anticipated to see the grinning Frenchman light up the auditorium, cheer too loudly, and often at the wrong moment. But… yeah no. No Laf to be found.

The empty seat where his friend should have been captured too much of his attention, mind jumping around. His absence was disconcerting, where could he be. Had Lafayette told him he was going to be unable to attend and Alex had forgotten? Did he have a date? No, of course not, Lafayette would never choose some fling over his friends. Eliza’s head cocks to the side, seeming to catch his eye from her distant seat. Alex wonders if she knew where Laf was, that could have kept him away. He can’t help but be a little worried, if he was being honest with himself, which was ridiculous. If something was wrong the others wouldn’t be sitting so calmly in their seats. But still, what--

“Alexander,” Burr hisses, nudging him with his knee. Alexander blinks, startled from his thoughts, and looks first to his side and then up at Washington. The older man has an eyebrow raised in silent expectation and oh. Oh he’d addressed Alexander just now hadn’t he and he’d…? Fuck.

“Mr. Hamilton?” Washington prompts, clearly repeating himself. “Are you and Mr. Burr ready to begin?”

Jefferson snickers, not even attempting to stifle the sound, already standing at his podium, with Madison as his partner quietly at his side. Double fuck. Alexander feels heat rush to his cheeks and he’s quick to spring to his feet.

“Yes sir. Of course.” Alexander moves quickly, tries not to stumble. Burr sighs softly, and follows at his back. The rest of the team remains seated. For a moment Alexander would swear there was a flicker of amusement in Washington’s eyes, but the older man is turning away, turning back to the audience.

Alexander curls his fingers tight around the edge of the podium, allows himself a moment to duck his head, to build his composure past the sharp sting of his embarrassment. He was foolish to let himself get distracted, to focus on Lafayette’s absence. Washington’s voice, the introduction of the topics, of the judges in the front row that will serve to give them an even and fair judgement to today’s debates, and the explanation to all those new faces (freshman and transfers, here for credit, for interest, or just because it was easiest to ride out a few hours in the back of the cool, dark auditorium on a lazy Saturday afternoon) in the crowd just how the mock run will be scored, washes over him and he lets it be the anchor that focuses him back.

Burr is taking slow, calming breaths at his side, a small silver ring twirling between his fingers, much too small to fit comfortably on Burr's own hand. Alex can’t help but smile. Theodosia must be waiting for him in the crowd just as much as their friends were.

“Burr,” he mutters, glancing to his partner. The man glances back, face calm and blank. “We’ll be fine. Relax.”

“Jefferson isn’t above fighting dirty. Don’t let him get under your skin,” Burr murmurs back and yeah, that was par for the course. Alexander doesn’t take the warning, the concern, with any ill intent, offers Burr a smile in return, shrugging a shoulder.

“No promises.”

“ _Alexander_ -”   
  
“Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Jefferson,” Washington centered himself at his own podium now, set just between them and Alexander straightens up, honing in his attention. Burr sighs, resigned, but he too focuses, taking a seat next to Alex to wait for his time at the mic. Across the stage Madison is doing the same, leaving Jefferson to stand, no, lean on the podium, all languid ease and smug arrogance.

Alex wanted to crush him.

“Alright gentleman. The first of the three preliminary rounds will begin after I read out your topic. You will each have two minutes to prepare, and one minute to argue,” Washington levels them both with steady gazes. The heaviness in his dark eyes says it all; Do not embarrass the team, do not lose sight of the day’s purpose. This wasn’t about them. It was about the team and making sure that they were truly prepared to take on Nationals, and to take home the title in a week’s time.

The topic is wage reform. Alexander practically lights up and Jefferson’s smirk is downright mean. Washington manages not to roll his eyes as he gives them their assignments: Alexander for pro, Jefferson arguing the counter, and he gives them the floor.

It starts out simply enough. Alexander knows this argument, fights this fight on the regular. He and Lafayette had just run a wage rally only a few months ago. Which Jefferson knows, had mocked openly, had published a critique in the school paper about the hypocrisy of the event being funded by the Schuylers and the uselessness of the argument. Angelica had shut him down before Alexander could,  but Angelica wasn’t on stage right now, and Alex was in his goddamn element.

They volley back and forth, Burr and Madison both quietly keeping their partners in check when either threatens to get too heated, wired too tight. Passion burns hot in Alexander’s veins, as it always did, and his fingers ache by the end of it from how tightly he held onto the edge of the podium. This was something he cared about and he was going to fight till he couldn’t any longer for it, as he always did.

When it’s time to switch, to give away the floor, Alexander is smirking, triumphant. Jefferson’s cocky smirk has faded, replaced with a crease between his brows and damn that felt good. Burr takes Alex’s place at the podium and he takes the chair without a fight. The slight turn of the lips that he gets in approval from Burr warms him more than it maybe should but whatever, it just felt damn good.

Washington’s voice takes over, just a brief interlude, and Alexander allows himself to zone out when Burr started talking, recapping quickly on Alexander’s arguments before touching on Jefferson’s. He was scary good at seeing the opposite side of any argument and picking them apart meticulously, like a vulture cleaning a carcass bare.

Without the threat of being caught in distraction or the need to be on alert for a rebuttal weighing over him, he feels secure in glancing back out into the audience. Immediately his gaze finds his friends again, searching for their reactions to the round so far.

Just as before he finds Eliza first, sitting on the edge of her seat with an earnest smile, hands clasped and pressed to her chest. Alexander smiles, fond, envisions her ten years from now in some school auditorium watching her kids in a play, rapt with pride. She was gonna be a great mom.

His eyes skim over the others, they all look quite pleased as well, interested enough in the proceedings at least and that’s good. Jefferson and Madison, banes to his existence as they were, were still team members and while Burr was his preferred partner, he would still have to work with them when it came to the real competition. It was comforting to know that the four of them could hold the room, no matter which room it was all happening in.

Alexander gets to the end of the row, and stops once more on the empty chair next to Mulligan where Lafayette should be. Again he’s bothered by the absence, curious and concerned, just barely stinging with hurt. His fingers itch for his phone, sitting silenced in his pocket, he’s seriously considering breaking basic decorum and slipping the device out to type out an inquiry. A quick glance to check the debate proceedings makes him think like that might not be a good idea.

Burr is frowning, leaning forward on the flat of the podium, listening intently as Madison works his way through his southern drawl. Alexander tunes in because Burr outwardly showing emotion was concerning, catches the words “... the responsibility of managing finances hardly should fall on the greater powers,” and resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Alexander bites bites tongue, physically bites down to reign in the urge to speak out of turn. Washington wouldn't hesitate to dismiss him from the stage if he did, he knew that from experience, and so instead he turns his attention back to the audience and the perplexing situation of his missing friend.

Imagine his surprise when instead of an empty seat at Hercules’ side he sees none other than Lafayette, grinning as he settles in his seat.

The smile that comes to his lips is unbidden and fond. He’d made it, wherever he had been and whatever he’d been doing before, Lafayette had made the effort to attend and that meant the world to Alexander.

Burr is speaking now, a harder edge to his tone, Alexander keeps one ear on the debate, half listening, and lets the rest of his attention lie out in the darkened house of the auditorium seats.

Lafayette leans over to Hercules, lips curled in a handsome smile as he murmurs soft words to the man. Hercules just smiles, lets the Frenchman kiss his cheek in greeting and murmurs something in reply.

 _Cute couple,_ Alexander catches himself thinking, as he often did in the company of his closest friends. He was so happy they had happiness in each other, had found love and warmth and comfort in each other's arms and hearts, even if the sight of them, so rightfully happy and warm, left him with an all too familiar ache in his chest.

It had been a long time since anyone had looked at Alexander like that.

He cuts that train of thought off before it can really get going, is about to turn in his chair, focus fully on what sounded like an oddly impassioned speech from the normally careful Burr, when curious movement from Lafayette hooks his attention once more.

Lafayette turns in his seat and looks up. It’s then that Alexander sees that when Lafayette had arrived, he had not done so alone. Alexander drags his gaze up to follow Lafayette’s own and immediately goes still.

Standing in the aisle at Lafayette’s shoulder was a simply gorgeous man dressed in army fatigues. Tall and broad with close cropped curls, the man smiles back at Lafayette, lips curled into a blinding smile.

Alexander’s breath stutters in his chest, he can feel his fingers trembling in his lap and oh, oh god was this real? Was this really happening right now?

Lafayette says something, his lips form around words that Alex cannot hear and the man at his side tips his head back in a silent laugh. Alex’s heart gives a jolt when that smile is turned toward the stage, when eyes meet his. They’re green, he knows this though he cannot see the detail, cannot see the starlight he knows to linger there from the distance and those eyes crinkle happily.

Lips, full and playful, stretch impossibly wider in a smile before curling around words Alexander doesn’t need to hear to know, words lost to him for months, words he could read from that mouth from a million miles apart and that he physically aches to hear once more.

_“Hey, baby girl.”_

John.

He’s not fully aware of the decision to move, but Alexander is on his feet, standing on shaky legs in the very next moment. Burr turns sharply at the podium at the scrape of Alex’s chair, Washington steps toward him, calls his name and Alexander doesn’t hear them, see them, he just starts to move. He slips through the chairs on stage, past his teammates who look on in confusion, hurries- almost trips his way down the steps leading to the audience, running as soon as his feet hit the ground. Alex bolts up the aisle, tears already flowing freely from his eyes, and it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except for how quickly he can get where he belongs.

Strong arms welcome him, hold him close, a warm body accepts his own, Alex feels his feet lift off the ground. Alexander winds himself tightly around the man, his John, his long lost lover, clings like he’ll disappear if he lets go, and gasps, crying, terrified it was all a dream.

“Easy,” a voice, low in his ear, warm like honey and smooth like silk. “Easy, baby, I’m here, relax.” John Laurens holds him close and his lips press to Alex’s cheek in a smile. “Oh Alex, you’re shaking…”

“You’re here!” Alexander whispers, fingers sinking tightly into his curls. They were short and springy and he much preferred them long, the way John let them grow between time away. They felt like heaven beneath his fingers and if he held on tight enough then maybe John would never leave again. “You’re here, you’re h-here, how are you here, I don’t-- what, John!”  
  
He pulls back enough to see his face, his beautiful face, and it’s so blurry through the tears, but it’s John. John who’s smiling back at him like he’s seen the sun for the very first time, John whose hands have curled in the stiff fabric of Alexander's blazer, John whose eyes are glossy with tears of his own and Alexander can’t bear to wait for the words he wants because they don’t matter. John is here. That is the _only_ thing that matters.   
  
He surges up for a kiss, too desperate, too rough, and John responds perfectly in kind. Alexander hears himself whimper into John’s mouth, feels John smile and press closer, feels a hand soothe down the length of Alexander’s spine, siphoning tension away from their embrace. Alexander presses closer, closes his eyes shut tight and prays it’s not a dream.

It’d been months since he could do this, months since he could have more than just a handful of stolen moments over shitty video chat with John, months since he could feel his lover in his arms. Months of wondering, praying to a God he isn’t sure exists, and hoping wanting needing to believe that each day wasn’t the one he’d get that dreadful call, the empty condolences and words spoken in variation too many times to too many people, ‘we’re sorry to inform you…” Alex’s hand goes tighter in John’s curls, John laughs and mutters his name. It tastes sweet falling from his John’s mouth and Alex wants to drink it down and drown in it.

“Alex,” John says again, tries to steady him to calm. “Alex, _querido_ , baby breathe, you need to breathe…”

“Don’t stop kissing me,” Alex pleads, letting their foreheads rest together. His breath comes in desperate pants, he can feel the burn of eyes on them, can practically feel Lafayette buzzing with excitement just next to them in the seat, and he doesn’t give a fucking damn. “John please, I-- I need, I….y-you-”

“You’re speechless,” John murmurs, smiling. Alex blinks at him, mouth falling open to protest, only to be stopped by John’s lips once more. “Oh Alexander… my beautiful boy…”

“Don’t stop,” Alex mutters again, closing his eyes tight. “Don’t don’t-- you can’t, I’m afraid you’ll be gone again if you do.” He’s babbling, it’s nonsense fueled by panic and disbelief. His heart beat rabbit fast and John holds him tighter.

“I’m here,” he repeats, breathing the reassurance into Alexander’s mouth like he’s giving him the air to breathe. A sob breaks past Alexander’s lips and he silences it by kissing John again. He’s here. He was really really here.

“Surely this calls for disqualification sir,” Jefferson’s voice is sudden yet tinny in Alexander’s ear, unimportant and as relevant as a gnat buzzing flitting across his field of vision. “Such a blatant disregard for proper decorum, and such a… vulgar display…” Madison's voice comes in a short, sharp burst of "Thomas!", but Jefferson pays him no mind, because of course he doesn't. 

John goes a bit slack in the kiss at the harsh Virginian's words, starts to pull away, surely to sneer at the stage, but Alex bites on his lip, leans up on tiptoes to press them closer and instead John focuses, takes a step back to steady them, all the while pulling Alex closer and they’re stumbling falling hitting the floor, laughing into each other’s mouths.

“Mr. Jefferson,” Washington’s reprimand is clear and strong, offers no room for leeway. John does break the kiss this time, smiling at Alexander from his position on the floor now, laid out sprawling underneath him.  Alex slips his fingers from John’s hair, latches them in the cool chain of the dog tags at his neck instead. The same words repeat in his head, again and again; _He’s here, he's real, John's here, he's real_.

“Sir-” Jefferson tries to continue, cut off by the firm clear of Washington’s throat. John’s hand fits to Alexander’s face, a rough padded thumb caresses the arch of his cheek and Alex feels his eyes flutter shut again, for just a moment, relishing in the touch he's gone so very long without. They made due with what they could, for all those long nights John was kept away, but there was nothing like the real deal, the real and gentle touch of his lover. 

“We tripped over my pack,” John murmurs, eyes alight with joy, kicking the bag to the side from beneath the tangle of their legs. "Too eager to keep ourselves together, Alex." Alexander feels a laugh bubble together with the sob that still hides deep in his chest and the sound that crosses his lips is truly pathetic. John doesn’t seem to care, his gaze is fond and burning fierce with love.

“Ladies and gentlemen, pardon the interruption,” Washington’s smiling, Alex can hear it in his voice.  “We have a very special guest joining us for today’s debate. I’d like to take a moment for us all to give a warm welcome Staff Sergeant John Laurens of the United States Marine Corps.”

Sudden applause springs to life in the auditorium, cheers and shouts and Alexander blinks up at John. “Washington knew,” he manages, mouth working around the words. Everything is hazy, the world has gone fuzzy and the only focal point he can cling to is John, beautiful John.

“Yeah,” John nods, smiling. Alexander takes a moment to look away and meet Lafayette’s gaze from where it’s peering at them, sharp and eagle focused, from over the armrest of his chair.

“And you?”

“I picked him up from the airport, _mon ami,_ ” Lafayette grins at him, frizzy curls bouncing as he practically jitters in his seat. “We all knew. Dear Laurens here planned it with us weeks ago. He wanted to surprise you!”

“I did,” John’s voice pulls Alexander’s attention back immediately, a ship to the harbor, a sailor to a siren’s call. “Sorry to have shocked you… I didn’t think you’d bolt right off the stage, baby girl.”

A shiver runs down Alex’s spine and yes. Yes yes John was here and he could address that shiver, address the warmth that was pooling and roiling in his belly, could call him baby girl, _querido_ , beautiful boy over and over and over again, but later. It was all for later because John was here, physically laid out beneath Alexander and they were in public, where the applause had died down and Washington was  giving Alexander a pass for the day, calling Abigail Adams up to join Burr at the podium in his place (with no penalty, suck it Jefferson!) because they did need to finish the debate after all.

Alex wants to tell John it was a dick move, surprising him like that, wants to tell him that of course he bolted off the stage, idiot, why wouldn't he? He wants to tackle him back flat on the floor and kiss him breathless, wants to take him and have him right now, right here, even with the eyes of the audience on them still. What comes to his lips instead is simple and soft, just a gently “I love you.”

John’s eyes go soft, misty again with tears and he sits up more fully, pulls Alexander into his arms and they stay there for awhile. Alex winds his arms around John’s neck, holds him close. “I love you too,” John whispers, pressing the words into Alexander’s skin. “I love you, Alexander, I love you. I’m home and here for you, and I love you.”

“You’re home,” Alexander whispers back, smiling now, unseen from how he’s pressed into and against John, willing to never let him go ever again. “You’re home, John Laurens…”

Exactly where he should be.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for self indulgent and cathartic reasons. Come poke at me on tumblr @secretwritinggetaway


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